One of the perks of being a blogger is you get invited to get together’s where people give you some free stuff. Now, we are not talking Emmy gift suites like I reported on when I worked at TV Guide Channel. It’s more baby lotion, cookies, coupons for stuff. Honestly, I don’t go to many. One reason is I feel like if I do I need to write about it and I’m not a product review site and if I don’t really love it I don’t want to write about it. Also, if I don’t love it I don’t want to slam it…well, till now. I’m NOT going to name names, but more indict a trend and my passiveness in participating in it.
So, I went to a crowded room and was shown the way to the “pamper” room. Nail polish? No, thanks, rarely do my nails these days. Chair back rub? No, hurts my neck. I was trying to make out what looked like cool make up brushes- interested, when I was told they were feathers to put in your hair. I almost laughed.
“Oh, not for me. I’m too old for that.”
The nice hair/feather lady said that was not true.
Me: ” this is what the kids are doing, right?”
Her: ” yes, everyone! We get the supplies from tackle shops and the flyfisherman hate us. They sell out.”
Fly fisherman, my hair, yes, I should have moved on to the cupcake table. But, no. I allowed the eager lady to put a little feather in my hair, ala hair extension. The feather was almost the color of my own processed hair.
“if I put it like this you can pull it forward to show it or hide it .” She said moving my hair around. I thought of Cher in the ’70’s and the feather on the roach clip. When I saw the lady coming at me with a PLIERS!.
“Can I just take this out myself?”
“No, you need a professional.”
OH, Crap. Once for a TVG shoot I had eyelash extensions put on me and it was like having trantula’s surgically attached to your eyelids. I had to go back the next day and have a very uncomfortable process to have them removed.
For the next couple of days I showed people my feather. A nice YOUNG girl who bartends at The Tar Pit thought it was great, my husband said he could barely see it ( of course he also says “where’s the butter?” as he stands in front of an open fridge) finally a mom friend who is close in age to myself said flat out, “Take that out.”
“it looks ridiculous on me, right?”
“yes.” she said bluntly. Later it was really bugging me physically. The feather was clamped on to my hair with metal. I couldn’t see how to get it off. I pulled out a scissors and cut it all off. I have enough hair, I won’t miss that little bit of hair.
I ask myself , why did I allow to be put in my hair in the first place? Lucky she wasn’t offering up free tatoos.